


Remedial Support Systems

by onemechanicalalligator



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Friendship, Gen, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, M/M, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload, Stimming, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: Abed's friends help him develop some of the coping skills he never learned as a child.
Relationships: Abed Nadir & Jeff Winger, Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 36
Kudos: 192





	Remedial Support Systems

**one**

Troy and Abed are sitting on the couch in Abed’s dorm room watching _Cheers._ They’re almost through their first semester at Greendale -- their first semester as friends. Halfway through an episode, Abed notices Troy staring at him in his peripheral vision. He turns to face him and cocks his head to the side.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Why are you sitting on your hands?” Troy asks earnestly. “You sit that way in study group a lot, too.”

Abed blushes and folds his hands in his lap.

“I know it’s weird,” he says. “But I’ve sat like that ever since I was a little kid. It’s how my dad and my teachers used to make me sit, so that I wouldn’t fidget so much.”

“What’s wrong with fidgeting?” Troy narrows his eyes.

“It’s disruptive,” Abed explains. “It’s not--” 

Abed stops speaking and bites down on his lips, looking away from Troy. He can feel himself blushing again. 

“It’s nothing,” Abed amends. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Abed--”

“I said don’t worry about it, Troy.”

* * *

 _Abed is eight, and if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that he is_ wrong. _Everything about him is wrong, and everyone makes sure to point it out at every opportunity. It maybe wouldn’t be so bad if it were just his classmates, who call him bad names and shove him on the playground. But it’s his teachers, too, when they snap at him for bouncing his foot too hard during class or grab his hands to stop him from flapping them when he’s excited about something. He gets in trouble for chewing up his pencils, and for tapping his fingers too loudly on the desk, and for rocking back and forth in his chair._

_He’s wrong at home, too. His dad grabs him by the shoulders and tries to hold him still, to stop him from swaying in circles at the dinner table. He tells Abed to stop repeating words, the ones that feel good in his mouth when he echoes them over and over, and he starts whispering them to himself at night in his bedroom instead. Abed’s dad makes him sit on his hands when they’re watching TV together on the couch so he’ll stop messing around._

_Everyone tells him that he just needs to act_ normal, _that if he can just be_ normal _like everyone else, he won’t have so many problems. Like it’s his choice not to be_ normal, _like he’s doing this on purpose. He tries to explain, but his teacher doesn’t want to hear his excuses, and he’s pretty sure his dad stopped listening to him a long time ago._

 _He chews his lips and nails until they bleed, and he gets in trouble for that, too. When he gets really upset, he pinches his arms and punches his legs and bites his skin and pulls his hair, and then he gets a time out and a lecture, and later he has to watch the bruises bloom on his skin, to live with the knowledge that_ he _did that, like some sort of monster._

 _His dad tells him to stop acting crazy and his teacher threatens to kick him out of school and Abed_ still isn’t doing this on purpose.

* * *

Troy keeps noticing it. 

Abed sits on his hands whenever he isn’t actively using them. When he’s in class and in study group, at the lunch table when he’s finished eating. Anytime he and Troy watch TV together.

He asks Abed about it again, several months after the first time, in Abed’s dorm room.

“Is it comfortable, sitting on your hands like that?”

Abed looks sharply at him and then sighs.

“No, it’s exhausting,” he says. “And it kind of hurts. But…” He shrugs. “My dad really wanted me to seem normal, and I really wanted my dad to stop yelling. And now I’m just used to it.”

“You know your dad’s not _here,_ right?” Troy says gently. “You don’t-- No one here is going to make you change yourself to be more normal.”

“That’s what _you_ think,” Abed says. “You’d be surprised how uncomfortable people get when they’re confronted with abnormality. Even people who claim to be open-minded, or who say they don’t care. Remember how the whole study group tried to set me up with Jenny Adams, because you guys all thought I couldn’t get a date on my own? You wanted to change me into someone _normal,_ so I would do _normal_ things like go on dates and have sex.”

“Which you already _do,”_ Troy sighs. “I know I’ve already apologized, but… I’m really sorry about that, man.”

“It’s okay,” Abed replies. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just want you to understand that it isn’t as easy as just _being myself._ There’s lots of things I learned to do in order to get by in the world, and I don’t know if I can just turn them off.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Troy asks, and Abed nods. “Have you ever thought about seeing someone about this? Like a doctor or a…a therapist?”

“I don’t know.” Abed stares up at the ceiling. “Sometimes I think about it, but then the more I think about it, the more it feels like this _big thing,_ and I don’t want…” He shakes his head. “I think I’m getting by okay by myself,” he concludes.

“Even though you force yourself to sit on your hands when you want to move them?”

“I only do that around other people,” Abed explains. He gets up and crosses the room to his closet. He pulls out a plastic container and sets it down on the table in front of Troy.

It contains what look like toys: a brightly colored puzzle, a plastic tangle, a fidget cube, and a plastic egg of silly putty. Troy looks at Abed and raises an eyebrow, trying to convey that he doesn’t quite understand. Abed just stares at him curiously.

“What are those?” Troy asks, finally remembering Abed’s difficulty reading facial expressions.

“I fidget with them. Play with them. And it calms me down, and helps me feel present, and...I don’t know, it just feels good. Better than sitting on my hands.”

“Abed, you can play with those in front of other people,” Troy says. “You could even take them to study group or to class. No one would care.”

“I don’t know,” Abed replies. “Maybe. I'll think about it.”

* * *

He really does think about it. But it feels wrong somehow, to do something that so obviously illustrates his abnormality in front of other people. It’s not really that he cares what anyone thinks. It’s more that every time he considers it, he hears his dad’s voice in his head, or his teachers’ voices, berating him, making him feel insignificant and small. And even though they’re not really _there,_ something about the memory gives Abed a visceral reaction and he can feel his breathing get shallower, his hands start to shake. He starts to feel like he’s falling, and he doesn’t want to. So he shuts it down.

Then one day he’s studying with the group, and it’s a bad day, and Abed is just trying to get by until he can go home and go to bed. He stops sitting on his hands so he can grab his water bottle, and after he takes a sip, he doesn’t sit on them again. Instead he starts to pick at his fingernails, not even really comprehending what he’s doing.

Suddenly there’s a tap on his shoulder, and he jumps a mile and turns to see Troy grinning sheepishly.

“I thought you might want to, uh, try this,” he whispers hesitantly, holding out a stress ball. “Before you start bleeding all over the place.”

Abed glances down at his shredded cuticles, noticing for the first time the red streaks and tiny beads of blood popping up everywhere. His cheeks feel hot and he takes the ball from Troy.

“Thanks,” he says.

He spends the rest of the group squeezing it, and it helps him calm down. No one gives him a hard time about it -- no one says anything about it at all.

When he gets home that night, Abed tosses the tangle and the fidget cube in his messenger bag. Just in case.

**two**

They’re all studying together as usual when Jeff happens to notice Abed out of the corner of his eye. Everyone else is writing, but Abed is staring at the table, completely still except for his eyes, which are darting all over the place. He closes them after a moment, then puts his hands over his nose and mouth and breathes out slowly. Finally, he shoves his papers in his bag and stands up.

“I have to go,” he mutters. “Sorry.” He’s careful not to look at any of them, but he accidentally catches Jeff’s eye. Jeff doesn’t know what to do, so he just nods, and then Abed turns and walks out of the room.

Jeff turns to Troy.

“Do you know what that was about?” he asks, but Troy shakes his head.

“I’ve seen him disappear like that before, but when I asked about it, he changed the subject.”

They go back to studying, but it remains on Jeff’s mind. That evening, once he’s back at home, he texts Abed.

 **7:23PM** **  
****JEFF: Hey, are you doing okay? You left really suddenly this afternoon.**

 **7:25PM** **  
****ABED: I’m fine.**

 **7:25PM** **  
****JEFF: What happened?**

 **7:26PM** **  
****ABED: It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.**

 **7:26PM** **  
****JEFF: Saying “I’m fine” over and over doesn’t convince me that you’re fine.**

 **7:28PM** **  
****ABED: But I am.**

 **7:29PM** **  
****JEFF: Abed.**

 **7:34PM** **  
****ABED: Jeff, I’m tired and I’m embarrassed and I really do not want to talk about it.**

 **7:35PM** **  
****JEFF: Okay. Goodnight.**

 **7:36PM** **  
****ABED: Goodnight.**

 **7:51PM** **  
****ABED: Thank you.**

 **7:53PM** **  
****JEFF: Anytime.**

* * *

_Abed is ten when he starts to question how superheroes with enhanced senses manage not only to survive, but do things like save the world. Abed has enhanced senses, too, sometimes, but his usually just leave him nauseous from being able to smell too well and give him a headache because everything is too loud and too bright. His enhanced senses overwhelm him and overtake him and instead of letting him help people or be a hero, Abed usually ends up under a blanket or in his closet or on the floor, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed over his ears, sometimes silent, sometimes screaming, never in control._

_It’s bad when it happens at home, and it’s worse when it happens at school. The other kids think he’s weird and stay away from him, like maybe his brand of crazy is contagious, and his teachers give him time-outs or detentions for throwing tantrums. If it's bad enough, they call his dad to come pick him up, and those are the worst days because that means his dad has to leave work, and he yells at Abed that they can't afford to lose business when he has to close the restaurant to come to the school._

_The most frustrating part is that no one ever asks him what happened. By the time a teacher or his dad gets involved, he’s already at the screaming part, and that’s what he gets in trouble for. And at that point he’s usually too tired and confused to say anything at all. He never has a chance to explain that the light was buzzing so loudly it felt like it was going to swallow him, and the tag on his t-shirt felt like it was rubbing his skin raw, and everything was just too painful and scary and overwhelming._

_Eventually, Abed learns to escape when it happens. To leave school and find somewhere to hide. To lock himself in his bedroom. To do things that are easier to apologize for later, when he’s had time to think up a better explanation. He hopes that maybe one day, when he’s all grown up, it’ll stop happening._

_It doesn’t._

* * *

Soon after Troy and Abed start dating, Troy finally asks about it. They’re talking about the romantic aspect of their relationship, and the things they maybe should know about each other, as though there are things they don’t _already_ know about each other. But then Troy thinks of one.

“Sometimes you sneak out of class or study group,” he says. “Really suddenly, and then you don’t come back. Where do you go?”

Abed jams his hands into his hair and leans his head down, taking a deep breath.

“I knew this would come up,” he says. “I guess it is good to talk about it, now that we're together.”

“Talk about what?” Troy asks calmly, and scoots closer to Abed on the couch.

“I get kind of...overwhelmed, sometimes,” Abed mutters, like he’s forcing the words out. “Everything gets to be too loud or too bright or I can smell too much or my clothes hurt my skin. Or sometimes all of those at once. And I can’t-- I have to get out. Away from everything. When that happens. If I don’t, I freak out.”

“Freak out how?”

“You’ve seen it before. Changing the clock for daylight savings. Or the time Annie rearranged the blanket fort without telling us. Or Cougar town moving to mid-season.

“Got it,” Troy says, taking Abed’s hand in his and squeezing it. “Is there anything I can do to help? When you’re feeling like that?”

“The most helpful thing is for me to get home,” Abed says slowly. “Because then I can get under my weighted blanket and put on my blackout mask and headphones. And eventually it goes away."

Troy nods. 

"Thank you for telling me," he says, and kisses Abed on the forehead. 

* * *

Several weeks later, Abed is watching _Inspector Spacetime_ by himself when Troy enters the apartment carrying a shopping bag. He brings it with him when he sits down next to Abed on the couch. 

Abed pauses the show and kisses Troy hello. 

"Did you go shopping?" he asks. 

"I actually got a couple of things for you," Troy says shyly. "If you want them, I mean. It's okay if you don't. I just…thought they might help?" 

Abed tilts his head and watches as Troy opens the bag and pulls out two items. The first is a pair of sunglasses, and the second looks like a large pair of headphones. 

"The sunglasses are for when it gets too bright for you," Troy explains. "You can even wear them inside if you need to. And these," he says, gesturing to the headphones, "are ear defenders. They block out noise. I thought they could be helpful, too. You know, like when-- when you're at school, and things get overwhelming. To help until we can get you home." 

Abed stares at Troy, speechless. Then he remembers his manners and whispers, "Thank you." 

He picks up the sunglasses and tries them on. They're very dark. He can already tell they'll be perfect. Next he tries the ear defenders and marvels at the quiet surrounding him, a little miffed that he never knew something like this existed before now. Finally, he sets both on the table and throws himself into Troy's arms. 

"This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me," he says. "I love you so much. _Thank you."_

Troy responds by pulling Abed into a deep kiss. 

**three**

Annie can’t find Abed. She didn’t see him when she got up this morning, and he didn’t go to any of his classes or come to campus at all. Even Troy has no idea where he is. Now school is over and she’s back at home and she starts to get worried. She calls Abed on his phone, hoping he’ll answer.

He doesn’t, but she hears his ringtone go off, and she follows the sound of it. She finds him curled up on the floor of the hall closet, which he and Troy share since the blanket fort doesn’t have one.

“What are you doing in here?” Annie exclaims. She holds out a hand, but Abed doesn’t take it. “Abed?” she says nervously. “What’s going on?”

Abed doesn’t answer her, doesn’t even look at her. She stares at him, wondering what to do next, until he picks up his phone and starts typing. She gets a text a second later.

**My voice isn’t working. I’ll just stay in here until it comes back. Don’t worry.**

“What do you mean it isn’t working?” Annie asks, concerned. “Are you sick? Do you need me to make you some tea? Why don’t you come lay down on the couch.”

She gets another text a moment later.

**I’m not sick. I just can’t talk. I would rather stay here.**

“Okay,” Annie says uncertainly. “Well, text me if you need anything.”

Abed doesn’t reply.

* * *

_Abed learns to talk much later than most children, a fact that his parents bring up pretty often when they’re taking him to different doctors and therapists. He thinks maybe that’s why they get so angry at him now, at age six, on days when he gets upset or overwhelmed and can’t make himself speak. It’s the same every time: they yell at him, and then they yell at each other, and then they keep yelling at each other in the other room, and Abed goes and hides under his comforter and tries to make his voice work._

_The day Abed’s mom leaves for good, Abed stops speaking for three days. First his dad tries coaxing him, then switches to yelling at him, and finally he crumples up on the floor next to Abed’s bed and begins to cry. Abed pokes his head out from under the covers, tries his best to say something, to apologize, to make his dad feel better. But he can’t. It hurts too much._

_On December 9th when Abed is eleven, his mom is running late to watch_ Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer _with him. Abed gets so flustered that he loses his voice again, and he sits in his bedroom and rocks back and forth in a panic until his dad comes in and tells him that he just called Abed’s mother and canceled the visit. He told her not to come after all, because what kind of visit would they even have if Abed is going to refuse to talk?_

 _From then on, every time he loses his voice, he hides. Sometimes it’s in his bed, under the same comforter with pictures of rocket ships on it, the one he keeps until he leaves for college. Sometimes it’s in his closet, beside the laundry hamper. Sometimes it’s behind his coat in his cubby at school. He thinks,_ if no one can find me, they can’t get mad at me for being quiet. I can’t ruin anything that way.

 _It’s not true. It doesn’t work like that. Someone gets mad at him every time, whether it’s his father or a teacher or one of the classroom aides. He knows he’s ruining everything. He wants to tell them,_ I can’t help it, I’m not doing it on purpose. _But he can’t._

_He has no voice._

* * *

Later that evening, Abed emerges from the closet. Troy and Annie are in the living room watching TV, and Annie moves over to make room for Abed to share her seat, but he sits on the floor instead.

“Are you feeling better, Abed?” Annie asks. Abed doesn’t react, just hands her his cell phone, which is open to the Notes app and full of text. 

**I’m sorry for being like this. Sometimes my voice goes away and it takes awhile for me to get it back. I don’t know how to fix it. I swear it’s not on purpose. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way when it happens. You can still talk to me if you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this before and I understand if it’s too much of a burden and you don't want me anymore.**

Annie feels her eyes fill with tears.

“Can I show this to Troy?” she asks softly, and Abed nods. 

Annie hands Troy the phone, and when he finishes reading he looks up at Annie with a look of alarm that she assumes mirrors her own. 

“Abed,” Troy says gently. “You’re not a burden to us, buddy. You’ve never been a burden. Of course we still want you. ”

“We love you,” Annie adds. “Even if you can’t talk, we still love you and want you around. Always.”

Abed is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chin, and by the time Annie finishes speaking he has started to shake. He crosses his arms across his chest, and then uncrosses them, and then presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, and then stands up and walks out of the room. 

Troy and Annie both follow him into the blanket fort where he’s sitting on the bed, wringing his hands. 

“Is it...okay for us to be here?” Troy asks tentatively. Abed nods, and both of them sit down on either side of him. 

“Can I touch you?” Annie reaches for Abed’s shoulder but lets her hand hover in the air while she waits for Abed to answer.

Abed nods again and Annie presses firmly on his shoulder. Then she decides that’s not enough, and she puts her arms around him and squeezes him as tightly as she can. His whole body tenses and then relaxes completely, and he lets his head fall to the side and rest on top of Annie’s. Troy drapes himself over both of them, forming a cuddle pile, and they stay that way for a long time. 

* * *

The next morning Abed is sitting at the table eating Lucky Charms when Troy and Annie come and sit down at the table with him.

“Hey,” Abed says, his voice hoarse from sleep, and Troy’s face lights up. Maybe Annie’s does, too, but Abed can’t tell because he’s only looking at Troy, trying to decipher if he ruined things between them yesterday.

“Your voice is back!” Troy says excitedly, and Abed thinks it’s a good sign. “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yeah,” Abed says carefully. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Annie says, stepping into Abed’s line of vision. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We all have bad days. It’s no big deal if sometimes your bad days include no talking.”

“Really?” Abed asks skeptically, and Annie and Troy both nod.

“We can just text if we have to,” Troy says. “Or write notes back and forth. If it’s a secret, maybe we could even get some invisible ink…” He starts to get excited and moves to stand behind Abed's chair, putting his arms around him. 

“It’ll be fine,” Annie interrupts, but she’s grinning. “We just love you and we don’t want you to feel bad for things you can’t control. Okay?”

“Okay,” Abed whispers, and he feels a little lighter. Like he’s been carrying something heavy for a long time, and now a piece of it has broken off.

**four**

Abed pictures himself as a child, only this time he is armed with the tools he has now: 

In school, sitting still as he fiddles with a tangle toy and pays attention to his teacher. 

Alone, sitting in a corner, ears covered and sunglasses on, letting himself calm down. 

At home, voiceless, writing notes back and forth with his father. 

No one is yelling. He isn't in trouble. 

* * *

Abed allows himself a moment to mourn for that childhood. The one he needed. The one he didn't get. 

He allows himself to be angry about it. Because he's an adult now. He could have avoided so much frustration and hurt, if he’d just _known._ If any of them had just _known._

But then he turns it around. He focuses on gratitude for what he does have. He may never be _normal,_ but he has tools now. And people he can count on.

 _Better late than never,_ he thinks. 

And believes it. 


End file.
